The Gardener of Man: Artilect War Book Two

by A. W. Cross

  I tried to smile.

  “You’re not okay, are you?” She boosted herself gracefully onto the stool opposite me.

  “Honestly? No.”

  “Is it because of Goldnesse?”

  “That’s a big part of it, yes.” I picked at the dirt under my fingernails with the corner of an empty seed packet. “Cindra, what if my father’s still alive? Goldnesse was the town closest to our farm. If he’s alive and anywhere, it would be there. Or what if I get proof that he’s dead?”

  “Do you think it’s possible? That he’s alive?”

  “At this point, nothing would surprise me. The weird thing is, I almost don’t want to know.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “You do?” Why wouldn’t she? You’re not the only one who had a family. “Sorry. Obviously, you do.”

  “Well, I know even better now that we’re here. I came from just outside Tow, not too far away from here, and if there’s only one town around for miles where survivors have gathered…”

  “Then your family might be alive too. Your grandmother. Asche.” The man Cindra would’ve married one day, if not for the war, or what she’d become. They’d known each other all their lives but had found love only on the eve of her cyberization.

  She propped her elbows on the bench-top and dropped her head into her hands. “I forgot that you’ve seen my life.”

  “I’m glad you can forget.” The seed packet cut into the soft skin under my thumbnail. “At least Oliver fixed it for me. Fewer random drop-ins.”

  She lifted her head and gave me a shy smile. “Oliver’s very interesting, isn’t he?”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it.” Blood welled on my injured thumb, and I dabbed at it with the corner of my sleeve. “Do you…do you think they may be alive? Your family?”

  “I don’t know. They had as good a chance as anyone. I— What will we do if they’re dead?”

  “What we’ve already been doing. Survive. It might even be easier. I mean, what will we do if they’re alive? Neither of our families were particularly thrilled about our cyberization.”

  “I don’t think it would matter anymore, do you? I think they’d just be so glad to see us alive…none of that would be important.”

  “You’ve been practicing scenarios in your head, haven’t you?” I accused.

  “Of course,” she laughed, “haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “But they never go well, not even in my own imagination. What if they blame us for the war? Or think we abandoned them? What if they’ve moved on?”

  “Well, we’ll never find out if we don’t go, will we?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to find out. Not yet.”

  “Will you ever be ready? How long does it take to be ready for something like that? Plus, think of everything you’ll miss. The people—”

  “The people? The last time we came across ‘people,’ they tortured you. Tried to kill us. How can you be over that?”

  “I’m not.” Her face darkened. “But I’m not going to let that stop me either. Ailith, we survived. If we don’t keep moving forward, what was the point?”

  “I just think we need to be cautious, that’s all.”

  “You sound like Tor. What’s going on with him, anyway? I mean, he’s reserved at the best of times, but today he’s got a face like a slapped ass, as my grandmother used to say.”

  “Oh, god,” I said, covering my face with my hands. I’d never really talked to Cindra about Tor. Though it felt like much longer, in reality, we’d known each other for less than two weeks, and all but the last couple of days had been spent traveling in a group, well within earshot of everyone else. This was the first chance we’d had to talk privately. I told her the whole story, starting with the moment I’d opened my eyes in the cabin.

  “And now he’s pissed because I didn’t sever our bond. He thinks our feelings for each other are a program. So that’s what’s wrong with Tor.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s incredibly romantic or incredibly awful,” she replied. “I can understand why he’s angry.”

  “Oh, believe me, I can too. And maybe one day…but right now, I just…” The problem was, I couldn’t justify it. Not to Cindra, not to myself. “You must think I’m horrible.”

  “Not horrible. Ruthless, cruel, maybe, but not horrible.” She laughed at my stricken face. “I’m just kidding. Look, I don’t totally agree with or understand what you’re doing, but you have your reasons. You’ve experienced things the rest of us haven’t, like Pax. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, for now. I’ll let you know when you become horrible.” She leaned over and brushed dried dirt from my face.

  “So, you’re going to Goldnesse then?” I asked her.

  “Yes. I’m afraid of what I might find out, but for me, not knowing is worse. Besides, one of the reasons I became a cyborg was to help people. With the ability I’ve got, I can do that. Now more than ever.” She smiled. “Lexa said I could work with her.”

  “Mmh.”

  “What? You still don’t believe them?”

  “It’s not that, exactly. I believe they’re telling us the truth. But within limits. I don’t think they’re telling us the whole truth, not even their version of it. Look at these seeds, for example.” I held up one of the little packets to show her.

  “Brandywine Heirloom Tomato Seeds, Boisvert Seed Company. Germination, 92%. So?”

  “They’re heirloom seeds. Not hybrids. You can save their seeds, plant them, grow more and more generations.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “Heirloom seeds were impossible to get before the war. At least, legally. The government struck some kind of deal with the seed companies in exchange for a pay-off. In return, only hybrid seeds were legal for sale, meaning you had to buy new seeds every single year. People who’d grown non-hybrid plants before the law changed kept them, hoarded and traded them, but if you got caught, your livelihood was over. The fines alone would bankrupt your farm.” I pointed at the boxes of seed packets. “But look at them all. Every kind of fruit, vegetable, and flower you could imagine. Those laws came into effect years before the war. Where did they get all these seeds? How long have they had them? Why do they have them if they thought the war was a temporary blip? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Cindra frowned, turning the packet over in her fingers. For the first time, she looked doubtful. “Maybe they were just being practical?” she asked, but the words must’ve sounded hollow even to her ears.

  “Maybe. There’s not much we can do about it now. And in the meantime, we have other issues to worry about. Like Goldnesse.”

  “So you’re going to come?”

  I hesitated. “I still don’t know. Do you think I should ask Pax? See if he…knows anything?”

  “What? And ruin the surprise? Hell, no. Come on, it’ll be an adventure.”

  “Remember when adventures meant music festivals or Wing Wednesday with the girls?”

  She laughed. “Maybe this will be just as fun.”

  “I doubt it,” I replied darkly.

  “Please come,” she said, her face now serious. “If we do it together, we’ll be fine, whatever the outcome.”

  My reply was interrupted by Lexa, calling to us from the top of the stairs. “Are you two coming? I need some help packing the supplies, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Coming,” Cindra called. She turned back to me. “Well?”

  I thought of Ros and Adrian. That’s the price of regret. I had to go. Whatever had happened, I had to try to find out. But. “Cindra, what if we find nothing? What if no one knows what happened to them?”

  “Well, then we’ll be no worse off than we are now, will we?”

  I hope you’re right.

  Dad held Mom back from her next patient, and they whispered furiously between them. Another nurse rushed to take Mom’s patient, and it was just as she was bending over him, telling her android assistant where to app
ly some weird-looking gel to his reddened skin that the man blew himself up.

  —Love, Grace

  As Cindra helped Lexa pack the remaining trade supplies in the infirmary, the rest of us milled around in the main room. Pax and I stood off to one side. He seemed as relaxed as always, his black eyes impossible to read.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked him.

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “Because we’re going to a town full of people. People not like us. People like those who tortured you and Cindra. Aren’t you even a little scared? Or do you know that nothing will happen to you?”

  “Are you asking if I know what will happen? If I know whether your dad is alive?”

  “Yes. No. Don’t tell me.” I twisted my hands together, reopening the cut on my thumb. “No, tell me.”

  He smiled in that enigmatic way of his. “I can’t tell you.”

  “What? Why? Is it bad? Does it need to happen? Is one of us going to die? Is it Oliver? I promise I won’t tell him.”

  His mouth quirked. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know. Like I said before, it’s a crossroads. Like when we were with the Saints of Loving Grace.”

  When they tried to burn us alive, you mean . “Oh.” Deflation turned to nerves that twisted my belly. “Then why aren’t you scared?”

  “Because these aren’t the same people who tortured us. They have a home. They feel safe. They have food, and water, and medicine.” He gestured toward the open door of the infirmary. Lexa was reading a list aloud as Cindra checked boxes and called out numbers.

  “What if they find out what we are?”

  He shrugged. “Then the path will be decided for us.”

  Tor stood near the outer door, brooding. He glanced at me, seemingly torn between anger and concern at how I must be feeling. His mother had died in Vancouver, killed in the first wave of bombings. He knew I’d never fully accepted that my father was dead, and that being faced with the possibility of finding out was both a dream come true and a nightmare. Several times, it appeared as though he was going to walk toward me, but each time, he stopped abruptly and turned away. Oliver watched him, amusement plain on his face.

  Should I manipulate Tor’s body and give him all the satisfaction of smashing Oliver in the teeth without any of the culpability ? Maybe then he’d see that us being connected wasn’t such a bad thing. Not likely.

  “Is everyone ready to go?” Lexa asked brightly, interrupting my reverie.

  “Lexa, what if someone recognizes me? Or Cindra? From before?”

  “Just keep your heads down and your hoods up. It’s been years since anyone’s seen you, and it’s unlikely you’ll be recognized out of context. Now, let’s go before it gets too late.”

  ***

  The air outside the compound was cool, the sky as gray as ever. The entrance itself was obscured by a copse of sun-starved trees that refused to lie down and die.

  I followed Cindra as we picked our way through on the twisting path, the silken length of her braid sliding over the top of her pack distracting me. Callum trailed behind me, his eyes darting back and forth. Lexa hadn’t wanted him to come with us, given his unpredictable behavior, but Cindra and I had promised to keep an eye on him. I smiled at him over my shoulder, and he grinned back. He’d rarely left the compound since he’d woken, on lockdown after what had happened to Ros and Adrian.

  Tor stalked after us, his long strides erratic to keep pace with our shorter ones. Kalbir pursued him as closely as possible, describing the various delights of Goldnesse.

  “I’ve been waiting to go for ages, ever since I woke up. Mil and Lexa have told me all about it. It’s supposed to be like a real town. There’s all different kinds of people. All survivors, of course. But in the five years since the war, well, four really, if you count the time it took for people to start gathering there. Anyway, they actually have an economy. Bartering, obviously. They’ve got hunters, people who scavenge, some guy who’s trying to grow stuff.”

  Some guy who’s trying to grow stuff.

  “Builders, teachers, a few engineers, cops…” she continued. “Lexa said there’s even a hairdresser. Not,” she said, wrapping a thick section of glossy black hair around her wrist, “that I would trust them to cut my hair.”

  “How many people live there?” Tor asked.

  “About three thousand, I think,” Lexa said from the front.

  Three thousand. Before the war, there’d been more than ten times that number.

  “They still get the odd person finding the town even after all these years. And I think they also trade with a small satellite group a few miles north, near a place called Tow.”

  Cindra’s braid stopped sliding.

  “I wonder why they chose Goldnesse to make their home?” Tor mused, mostly to himself, but Kalbir pounced on the opportunity to feed his curiosity.

  “Well, there’s two lakes, and a massive dam that supplies their hydro-electric station. Every single building has electricity. Can you believe it? I bet the food will be amazing. I mean, it’s got to be better than the plastic crap we eat at the compound.” She shuddered. “Unless it’s like rabbits or that sort of thing.”

  “If you’d been awake for the last five years rather than just a couple of months, you’d think rabbits tasted like ambrosia,” Lexa said dryly.

  “Hares,” Tor said.

  When we emerged from the thicket, I instantly recognized the surrounding landscape. The compound was hidden in the base of a small hill about a mile away from the road; I’d driven past it numerous times and never suspected it was anything more. It looked like hundreds of other hills in the area, covered with patches of crooked, wind-stunted trees, scrubby brush, and little dried cactus-balls you never saw before you found them clustered inside your pant legs, the long thorns embedded in your skin.

  Very little had changed.

  “It looks the same,” Cindra whispered to me.

  “I was just thinking that,” I whispered back. “I guess it makes sense. It’s always been dry here. Now it’s just colder.”

  “Motherfucker!”

  Cindra shot her hand out and grabbed my arm.

  Oliver hopped up and down on one foot, clutching at his ankle.

  “Oliver! Don’t—” I was too late.

  He scrabbled at his trouser leg, trying to pull it up. His next scream had a sharp edge of very real pain as the sliding fabric embedded the cacti spikes even deeper.

  “Oliver, stand still.”

  He ignored me.

  “Oliver.” Cindra’s voice was quiet, and Oliver froze, not wanting to scare away this sudden attention. She knelt in front of him, putting her knee under his foot. Gently, she rolled up his pant leg, pulled it wide on the assaulted side, and deftly plucked the spiked plants free. Oliver reached out, his hand hovering over her hair before boldness overtook him, and he smoothed a lock between his fingers, tucking it behind her ear.

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled up at him.

  Oh Cindra, seriously? I hope for all our sakes that Asche is still alive . Oliver didn’t deserve a happy ending.

  Callum bent and picked up the discarded cactus, rolling it over thoughtfully in his fingers. As we all turned back to the road, he closed his fist around it, wincing at the sudden sting.

  Umbra.

  He saw me watching and shrugged.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. She’s just curious.” He said it low, so only I could hear. “Let’s keep walking before the others see.”

  Cindra returned to walk beside me, stroking the lock of hair Oliver had touched.

  “You know he’s an asshole, right?” I said.

  “Maybe.” She smiled coyly. “Or maybe he’s—”

  “Do not say that he’s misunderstood, Cindra. Please.”

  She laughed, glancing up at Oliver’s back. “Okay, I won’t. But maybe he is.”

  Was it my imagination, or was Oliver suddenly taller? Should I remind her what’s
he’s done? About Celeste? The last time I’d seen Celeste—the young woman who’d worshiped Oliver with everything she’d had: her body, her loyalty, her innocence—she’d been lying on the ground, stunned, as he crushed her hand with his boot.

  As though she could read my mind, Cindra laced her fingers with mine. “Let’s not talk about Oliver. One problem at a time.”

  “Problem? I thought this was an adventure?”

  As we left the desert hills and mounted the worn road, I felt it. Him. Whoever had been following Tor and me from the beginning of our journey was here, somewhere close.

  “Hello?”

  Images slid through my mind. Stepping out of a dark cave into the blinding sun. Thousands of brightly-colored balloons floating in an azure sky. A name carved in the sand. Fane.

  I’d never met Fane, but he’d followed us since the beginning. And while I’d been inside him, I knew little about him other than that he was some kind of cyborg and part of a group of Cosmists, those who believed artilects——sentient, synthetic beings—were our only future. My communication with him was different than with the others, snippets of images amid the odd coherent vision. And, unlike the others, he could connect with my mind. He’d helped us escape the Saints, joining his strength with mine to generate the sonic pulse.

  “Ailith? Are you all right?” Cindra peered at me as though into a darkened room, searching.

  “I’m fine. I—” How do I explain? Tor and I hadn’t told anyone about the specter shadowing us. “I’m just a bit disoriented, that’s all. Must be from the fresh air after being in the compound the last few days.”

  “Well, get ready, because I think we’re almost there.”

  My hearing didn’t come back for hours, but somehow that made everything easier. I no longer heard people screaming, or their pleas for help. It also meant Mom and Dad couldn’t hear each other well enough to fight in the car as we left the hospital. I couldn’t really remember what I’d seen after the bomb went off, how we’d escaped, how we’d gotten to the car. My dad says that sometimes your brain plays tricks on you, to make it easier for you to do something. I wonder if that’s what happened to the man with the bomb, when he saw the android bending over him.